Adam was born in 1981 in Holyoke, Massachusetts. He was born so that he could hang out with you and have a good time, mostly. He is a graduate of Columbia University, Johns Hopkins University, Bay Path College, University of Massachusetts Amherst, Greenfield Community College, and Edward Bellamy Middle School. He lives in Vancouver, British Columbia with his partner, some well-stocked cabinets, a career unrelated to anything represented on this web site, and a nice view. When are we hanging out?

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Wormleysburg Variety #5: Leave It for the Trolls

Vehicles did not always float along roads the way they do now. In my youth, and even in my middle age, travel meant physical contact between the pavement and wheels. The form of vehicles followed their function, or at least their shape was said to have purpose, reducing wind resistance and improving the efficiency of how the engines burned fuel. Now even a trash can is propelled with the same ease of acceleration as a sports car, if it has been treated appropriately.

One chooses a speed, syncs with the magdrift, and whoosh, away one goes. It’s a prime example of the sort of absurdity passing for progress that I appreciate so much. It’s amusing to me. It makes me want to stay alive. Well. That and bitterness toward a society that would rather lock me away and speed along my demise than see me on the list of centenarians, those bastards. I’ll show them.

The trash can pulls up to the front of a run-down two-family house. There is a sofa on the front patio. “Oh, sofa. Oh, yes, sofa,” I say.

Blue-hair gives me back my cane and assists me to the patio. “I’ll be right back,” she says then. “I need to get the sled.”

“And what about your package?” I ask.

“What?” My voice hadn’t come out loudly enough.

“You were waiting for a delivery at the landing pad.”

“Leave it for the trolls,” she says, using an expression I am not familiar with but can comprehend the basic meaning of. “I don’t need that package if you can get me across state lines.”

I keep waiting for her to remember that I don’t know her name. I assume that she doesn’t know mine, for she has not commented on its eccentric Italian-ness. I wonder when was the last time she met someone who wasn’t able to see her profile.

She opens the door to the first floor of the house.

The pain lunges. Blue-hair is out of sight. I grasp at the pavement, no longer standing.

Help. Show me your future. I almost made it. How did I almost make it?

Help. Help. Or maybe this is the best I could have hoped for.

Adam Ares Jan 27, 2018

Hero ‘98 #5: This is Our End

Back in the city of Santa Cruz. In her sundress, which Mark said made her look like a ballerina. That was a comment she didn’t understand. She is tired. She is hungry. She doesn’t have a key yet for the place where she is staying—a condominium in a gated community, with the daughter of a professor. Which would be unfair, but she isn’t paying rent yet, either.

Somebody talks to her. “Hey. I’m trying to get rid of a summer pass,” he says. “You live around here?” He is shirtless. Another teenager.

“Yes,” she says. One week has passed since the drive to Los Gatos.

“Do you want a summer pass? To ride all the rides on the boardwalk?”

Alicia stares at the boy. There are no boys like him where she is from.

“Thirty dollars,” he says. “Almost as cheap as a wristband.”

“I’m sorry.” His chest is hairless and fit. He is relaxed and ready for his close-up. “What did you say you want for it?”

“Thirty dollars.”

Adam Ares Jan 26, 2018

Another Wedding Story

The first time I ever slept next to my mother, I was twenty-two. I cried until I fell asleep, then woke up crying.

Adam Ares Jan 25, 2018

Hero '98 #4: Barely Matter

The people in the back seat can’t hear Marcy’s yells over the car radio and wind.

Adam Ares Jan 24, 2018

Daryl #3: A Game of Poker

Daryl, the Doctor, and the first dog entered a small room, in which several other dogs were sitting at a table, playing a game.

Adam Ares Jan 23, 2018

My Chomps

I think to myself that I should walk to the mall and buy a present for my dog. Not that Chomps would know the difference if I gave him his present a couple of days late—it’s just that people on the internet are expecting a lot from my dog’s birthday, so this needs to be special. Last year was amazing: thousands of people enjoyed watching my dog’s birthday celebration, which I videotaped and posted to YouTube under the title “Chomps’s Birthday Spectacular!!!” People from all across the world told me that my dog was beautiful. I already knew that Chomps was beautiful, but I appreciated their sentiments.

Adam Ares Jan 22, 2018

Hero ‘98 #3: Manifest Like Witches

Marcy’s hair, fake red, no-I-mean-brighter-than-that fake red, but cut by her friend Alex, who doesn’t know how to cut hair. Definitely a bedroom cut. Nineteen years old, like Sebastian. Peeks her head around the door as she opens it at 5:30 in the afternoon, one eye closed tight like a navel. The light, after all, white and gargantuan. The aforementioned hair is bed-head, a fiasco, and she’s naked from the waist down, they all see, now that she opens the door and says in a rasp, “Hey, guys. Come on in.” No, she’s wearing briefs or something. She doesn’t care, like a love interest in a movie, except she has acne and trips over the cords she’s about to put on. So, beautiful. Alicia in first, sunglasses on her head, into the dark first floor apartment. Sebastian near blushing like everyone’s going to tease him because she’s so cute and he likes her. Mark in a black turtleneck, ducking into the doorway even though he doesn’t have to. It’s out of habit. He is 6 foot 2.

Adam Ares Jan 21, 2018

Daryl #2: Daryl Meets the Doctor

The first dog barked and scratched at a door. Daryl found himself posing in expectation of the human he was sure was about to emerge to let the first dog inside.

Adam Ares Jan 20, 2018

Diary of a Little Girl #2: Imagined Vampires

Although comfortable in darkness, we kept a lamp on at night for convenience’s sake. The two of us read silently in our beds until we fell asleep, and this process often took a while. I needed to reach a point of exhaustion before my body would allow itself to shut down, and David suffered from night terrors. At any given hour of the night, one of us might be awake. In such a case, that person was probably reading.

Adam Ares Jan 19, 2018

Kitty's Consciousness

The consciousness of the cat named Kitty has only inhabited its present body for a few months now. Due to the fact that Kitty still hangs onto impressions of a previous life in which she was an aspiring poet and housewife, she is emotionally distressed. Neither of her owners has really tried to understand what it’s like to be a cat. Why keep cats around at all? is a question that Kitty never much considered while she was still a human, although it haunts her now. A mosquito lands on her face.

Adam Ares Jan 18, 2018

The Curmudgeon

The curmudgeon’s face was not immediately visible as I stepped outside to breathe the still autumn air. He was clinging to the handrail, his torso upon the first two steps, his legs flailing unhappily upon muddy leaves.

Adam Ares Jan 16, 2018

Salvatore and the Cyclone

I hated fireworks, but Dorothy loved them, and I loved her, and I was in Kansas now.

Adam Ares Jan 15, 2018

Wormleysburg Variety #3: Blue-hair and the Maglev

I am woozy by the time I’m in the driveway. I would use my walker for this, but it is inside the ground level of the house. So I will only have my cane. I am placing an abnormal amount of weight on it, holding it to the front of me. I may be bruising my hands, but it’s better for me to hurry than it would be for me to lose my momentum. While I am walking I should remain walking. The store is in sight. Why do we need all this dirt, all this gravel, all these vehicle lots? All this distance. Why, Wormleysburg? Answer me that. I do not yet see the taxi cab.

Adam Ares Jan 14, 2018

The Doppelganger

One night at my favorite website for pornography, I discovered a tame but very appealing video clip of two boys kissing. One of the boys reminded me of myself, although his face was much prettier than mine. I watched this file six times in a row.

Adam Ares Jan 12, 2018

Eric & the Mannequins

Jamie-Q has written that there is a point at which a human identity fails—when a person has no choice but to re-invent him- or herself—and that the process of re-inventing one’s own identity is what sometimes leads to an adolescent development of superpowers. This sort of transformation is, she claims, a natural process, triggered in the mind as a reaction to outside circumstances. Although Eric disagrees with several of Jamie-Q’s conclusions—particularly her claim that anyone, if given the appropriate set of environmental circumstances, may have the potential to develop superpowers—he does value her ideas, and many of them resonate with him on a personal level. It has always seemed unlikely to him, after all, that theories of genetics could explain how he is able to bring mannequins to life, but why he cannot do the same with standees, statues or blow-up dolls.

Adam Ares Jan 11, 2018

Nancy & Jester

During weekends at Auntie Emma’s house, my brother ate chicken nuggets. I often watched him lean over the tray table, forking nuggets—dragging them through the ketchup, disappearing them into his mouth using only a flick of the wrist. He looked like a juggler at the circus, so I knew that he was going to be a clown.

Adam Ares Jan 10, 2018

Daryl #1: We Who are Dogs

The first dog said hello. The second dog only sniffed at the first dog’s butt.

Adam Ares Jan 9, 2018

Smiley

We would do it because we love you. We would carry your bags inside, give you a change of clothes, and look around for an extra blanket. We would sit next to you on the couch and say, Hey, Is that show on, even though we don’t watch television very often. That show, although it is meant for children, is usually good for a laugh. It could hopefully cheer you up, if you were down, or distract you if you needed distraction.

Adam Ares Jan 8, 2018

Hero '98 #1: The Hotel Room

“My mom misses me, sure, but I’ll go back there someday. I just had to come to California and find myself, I suppose. I didn’t have a lot of friends back in Lowell.” He grimaces and looks down, shakes his upper body like a boxer.

Adam Ares Jan 7, 2018

In Search of Ann-Marie

I kept begging that she should lead me to the place where she was magic. Across the river the General stood, as always. I had watched this statue’s dedication at the age of six. I had waved my souvenir flag at an ancient troop of soldiers.

Adam Ares Jan 5, 2018

Eric in Los Angeles #1: The Illusionist’s Interview

“I was kept in a cage a lot like this one,” said the illusionist. He laughed. He was handsome. “But, you know, I went to high school in such different times. It seems like there isn’t a kid alive now who hasn’t been so coddled that they’re useless. They all get told that they’re unique, that they’re precious, that they’re entitled to a certain lifestyle. Ha!” He motioned for his friend to look.

Adam Ares Jan 4, 2018

Wormleysburg Variety #2: Pellets on My Duster

Let n equal all those who have died before me, contemporaries whose lifespans my own surpasses. Here is your sample. Here is your proof. No reason to think that such a trend will not continue. The effect has been replicated thousands of times. I am a survival machine. In the experiment of my life, what I can predict with the greatest certainty is that I will wake up tomorrow. I will live where others have died. And so what if I am wrong. I will always ultimately be wrong, or else, by definition, there is no ultimus. When I am wrong, that is not for me to know. When I am wrong, the repercussions end for me. Until something transcends me, I transcend all. That is my reason, you frustrating head-doubt. Okay.

Adam Ares Jan 3, 2018

The Sheer Distance of Things

I was beautiful to him. He had had his doubts, as I probably did too, but now that he was holding my hand, walking with me along the beach, tapping and clacking and caressing the wedding ring around the fourth digit of my tiny, soft hand, he was glad that I was his wife. There was wind blowing sand up his shorts, lightening his dark body hair, and as we walked he kept looking for the perfect view. He wanted me to thank him for the sun, the atmosphere, the curvature of the earth, and the commercial for this resort he had seen on television.

Adam Ares Jan 2, 2018

Wormleysburg Variety #1: The Overlook-Perch

Never again will I come back to this place. I have degrees. Tokens. Memories of more reckless human contact, from when my skin integrity could be better trusted. And, yes, a granddaughter who maintains this place adequately, now that she is certain I am nearly dust.

Adam Ares Jan 1, 2018

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